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When Henry opened the door, there was none of that. Instead, he nodded in greeting and gestured her inside without a word, baffling her. At the same time, she stiffened even more, wondering if he was trying to catch her with her guard down before he went in for the attack.
“What are we doing today?” he asked.
“I brought potions. I want to see if they could detect something in the throne room that your family magic couldn’t, after which we shall proceed by adding layers of traps to the area to prevent more thieving—among other things, of course. It’s a long process and I want to cover every possible scenario.”
But you were drunk last night. You’re in no condition to work on my issue. You’re unprofessional.
The words didn’t come. Henry waited in silence, and it took her a few seconds to understand that he was giving her the floor. Pearl hesitated, then rolled her shoulders and trudged toward the center of the throne room.
“Do you need the floor cleared out?”
What was up with him?
“There’s no need. I have all the space I need.” A pause. “You might want to back away a little. Not a lot of people can handle the force of my energy when it comes in potion form.”
Her mouth nearly dropped open when he backed a few steps without further prompting, his arms folded. She tried not to notice the way the black dress shirt stretched over his upper body and inwardly cursed Sophie for bringing it to her attention.
“More steps?” he asked.
“No, that’s fine. Stay where you are.”
Pearl turned her back on him, willing herself to focus on her task. She knelt and plucked the potion bottles from her bag, arranging them on the floor in the order of her usage. The first one circled her immediately, cajoling her energy out and glowing when it attached. She felt the red hue from outside, a lethal force detecting her intrusion. It hissed and crowded around the glowing circle but didn’t move past it.
That’s right, you red force. You can’t touch me here.
Her confidence grew. She opened the rest of the potions, dropping them in patterns until she felt her energy thicken and thrive. In her element, the rest of the world fell away and her magic took over, one that made her drunk with a wonderful feeling and a sense of belonging. When she felt her magic lingering at the threshold, she let it extend further, allowing for exploration outside her glowing circle: thin, invisible trails that were also protected by her potions.
She felt the Lyra family’s red hue, a protective blanket that was aggressive to its enemies and layered with years upon years of stacked magic. Some clashed and hissed at each other while others meshed in harmony. All of them were powerful. That made sense, considering she didn’t think the Lyra heads were of a hive mind and all had different opinions and personalities. When she found Henry’s signature, she expected a suffocating force, something that would wrap around her and choke the life out of her. Or maybe it would be cold, untouchable, and just a touch dark.
Oh.
His magic was like…a warm blanket. Its steady presence hovered in the precipice of all the other energies, always watching but never pushing itself to get to her. She felt it, anyway, and didn’t expect how soothing it would be. She wanted to lean toward it and let it carry her away—and maybe that was its purpose, a honey trap.
But magic didn’t work that way, especially when it was used on something personal to him like his throne room. He wouldn’t risk manipulating his magic to protect something that mattered this much to him. Where was the evil, sinister force lurking from deep within his soul? Was it not present in his magic because…he just wasn’t evil?
Focus, goddamnit.
It took a crazy amount of effort to brush that warm blanket away and navigate the rest of the energies, but she did it. When Pearl’s thin, invisible trails came back to her circle, she steeled her shaking knees and worked fast on getting rid of every inch of her energy. Relief slid in when she dropped the glowing circle last and the red hue disappeared.
“There’s no outside magic,” she declared, quietly catching her breath. “All I felt was red and they all belonged to the Lyras.”
“Which means…?”
“Whoever stole your stuff didn’t resort to magic.” At his stern look, she squared her shoulders. “I’m sure of it. If you want me to undergo your truth room—”
“There’s no need. I believe you.”
She gaped at him. “You do?”
“I felt you in the room.” A pause, then, “They weren’t kidding about your power.”
Was she dreaming or wastheHenry Lyra complimenting her?
“It’s my potions, not me,” she said.
“It’s still an extension of you.”
“You should see Saph, then. Sapphire’s a beast at potion-making.”
